Cousin Betty by Honore de Balzac

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The Complete Works of Honore de Balzac (98 Complete Works of Honore de Balzac Including Father Goriot, Sarrasine, Cousin Betty, Colonel Chabert, The Girl with the Golden Eyes, The Exiles, And More)

Honore de Balzac, best novels

The Deserted Woman

The Ball at Sceaux

The Count of Monte Cristo: and 3 similar type of works (SCARAMOUCHE, THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL, COUSIN BETTY)

The Recruit

Poor Relations: Cousin Betty and Cousin Pons

think very badly of you. But I love you so madly, that I feel I should never have the strength to curse you. May I sign myself as ever,

"YOUR VALERIE."

"What do you say to my scheme for sending this note to the studio at atime when our dear Hortense is there by herself?" asked Valerie. "Lastevening I heard from Stidmann that Wenceslas is to pick him up ateleven this morning to go on business to Chanor's; so that gawkHortense will be there alone."

"But after such a trick as that," replied Lisbeth, "I cannot continueto be your friend in the eyes of the world; I shall have to break withyou, to be supposed never to visit you, or even to speak to you."

"Evidently," said Valerie; "but--"

"Oh! be quite easy," interrupted Lisbeth; "we shall often meet when Iam Madame la Marechale. They are all set upon it now. Only the Baronis in ignorance of the plan, but you can talk him over."

"Well," said Valerie, "but it is quite likely that the Baron and I maybe on distant terms before long."

"Madame Olivier is the only person who can make Hortense demand to seethe letter," said Lisbeth. "And you must send her to the Rue Saint-Dominique before she goes on to the studio."

"Our beauty will be at home, no doubt," said Valerie, ringing forReine to call up Madame Olivier.

Ten minutes after the despatch of this fateful letter, Baron Hulotarrived. Madame Marneffe threw her arms round the old man's neck withkittenish impetuosity.

"Hector, you are a father!" she said in his ear. "That is what comesof quarreling and making friends again----"

Perceiving a look of surprise, which the Baron did not at onceconceal, Valerie assumed a reserve which brought the old man todespair. She made him wring the proofs from her one by one. Whenconviction, led on by vanity, had at last entered his mind, sheenlarged on Monsieur Marneffe's wrath.

"My dear old veteran," said she, "you can hardly avoid getting yourresponsible editor, our representative partner if you like, appointedhead-clerk and officer of the Legion of Honor, for you really havedone for the poor man, he adores his Stanislas, the little monstrositywho is so like him, that to me he is insufferable. Unless you preferto settle twelve hundred francs a year on Stanislas--the capital to behis, and the life-interest payable to me, of course--"

"But if I am to settle securities, I would rather it should be on myown son, and not on the monstrosity," said the Baron.

This rash speech, in which the words "my own son" came out as full asa river in flood, was, by the end of the hour, ratified as a formalpromise to settle twelve hundred francs a year on the future boy. Andthis promise became, on Valerie's tongue and in her countenance, whata drum is in the hands of a child; for three weeks she played on itincessantly.

At the moment when Baron Hulot was leaving the Rue Vanneau, as happyas a man who after a year of married life still desires an heir,Madame Olivier had yielded to Hortense, and given up the note she wasinstructed to give only into the Count's own hands. The young wifepaid twenty francs for that letter. The wretch who commits suicidemust pay for the opium, the pistol, the charcoal.

Hortense read and re-read the note; she saw nothing but this sheet ofwhite paper streaked with black lines; the universe held for hernothing but that paper; everything was dark around her. The glare ofthe conflagration that was consuming the edifice of her happinesslighted up the page, for blackest night enfolded her. The shouts ofher little Wenceslas at play fell on her ear, as if he had been in thedepths of a valley and she on a high mountain. Thus insulted at four-and-twenty, in all the splendor of her beauty, enhanced by pure anddevoted love--it was not a stab, it was death. The first shock hadbeen merely on the nerves, the physical frame had struggled in thegrip of jealousy; but now certainty had seized her soul, her body wasunconscious.

For about ten minutes Hortense sat under the incubus of thisoppression. Then a vision of her mother appeared before her, andrevulsion ensued; she was calm and cool, and mistress of her reason.

She rang.

"Get Louise to help you, child," said she to the cook. "As quickly asyou can, pack up everything that belongs to me and everything wantedfor the little boy. I give you an hour. When all is ready, fetch ahackney coach from the stand, and call me.

"Make no remarks! I am leaving the house, and shall take Louise withme. You must stay here with monsieur; take good care of him----"

She went into her room, and wrote the following letter:--

"MONSIEUR LE COMTE,--

"The letter I enclose will sufficiently account for the determination I have come to.

"When you read this, I shall have left your house and have found refuge with my mother, taking our child with me.

"Do not imagine that I shall retrace my steps. Do not imagine that I am acting with the rash haste of youth, without reflection, with the anger of offended affection; you will be greatly mistaken.

"I have been thinking very deeply during the last fortnight of life, of love, of our marriage, of our duties to each other. I have known the perfect devotion of my mother; she has told me all her sorrows! She has been heroical--every day for twenty-three years. But I have not the strength to imitate her, not because I love you less than she loves my father, but for reasons of spirit and nature. Our home would be a hell; I might lose my head so far as to disgrace you--disgrace myself and our child.

"I refuse to be a Madame Marneffe; once launched on such a course, a woman of my temper might not, perhaps, be able to stop. I am, unfortunately for myself, a Hulot, not a Fischer.

"Alone, and absent from the scene of your dissipations, I am sure of myself, especially with my child to occupy me, and by the side of a strong and noble mother, whose life cannot fail to influence the vehement impetuousness of my feelings. There, I can be a good mother, bring our boy up well, and live. Under your roof the wife would oust the mother; and constant contention would sour my temper.

"I can accept a death-blow, but I will not endure for twenty-five years, like my mother. If, at the end of three years of perfect, unwavering love, you can be unfaithful to me with your father-in- law's mistress, what rivals may I expect to have in later years? Indeed, monsieur, you have begun your career of profligacy much earlier than my father did, the life of dissipation, which is a disgrace to the father of a family, which undermines the respect of his children, and which ends in shame and despair.

"I am not unforgiving. Unrelenting feelings do not beseem erring creatures living under the eye of God. If you win fame and fortune by sustained work, if you have nothing to do with courtesans and ignoble, defiling ways, you will find me still a wife worthy of you.

"I believe you to be too much a gentleman, Monsieur le Comte, to have recourse to the law. You will respect my wishes, and leave me under my mother's roof. Above all, never let me see you there. I have left all the money lent to you by that odious woman.-- Farewell.

"HORTENSE HULOT."

This letter was written in anguish. Hortense abandoned herself to thetears, the outcries of murdered love. She laid down her pen and tookit up again, to express as simply as possible all that passioncommonly proclaims in this sort of testamentary letter. Her heart wentforth in exclamations, wailing and weeping; but reason dictated thewords.

Informed by Louise that all was ready, the young wife slowly wentround the little garden, through the bedroom and drawing-room, lookingat everything for the last time. Then she earnestly enjoined the cookto take the greatest care for her master's comfort, promising toreward her handsomely if she would be honest. At last she got into thehackney coach to drive to her mother's house, her heart quite broken,crying so much as to distress the maid, and covering little Wenceslaswith kisses, which betrayed her still unfailing love for his father.

The Baroness knew already from Lisbeth that the father-in-law waslargely to blame for the son-in-law's fault; nor was she surprised tosee her daughter, whose conduct she approved, and she consented togive her shelter. Adeline, perceiving that her own gentleness andpatience had never checked Hector, for whom her respect was indeedfast diminishing, thought her daughter very right to adopt anothercourse.

In three weeks the poor mother had suffered two wounds of which thepain was greater than any ill-fortune she had hitherto endured. TheBaron had placed Victorin and his wife in great difficulties; andthen, by Lisbeth's account, he was the cause of his son-in-law'smisconduct, and had corrupted Wenceslas. The dignity of the father ofthe family, so long upheld by her really foolish self-sacrifice, wasnow overthrown. Though they did not regret the money the young Hulotswere full alike of doubts and uneasiness as regarded the Baron. Thissentiment, which was evidence enough, distressed the Baroness; sheforesaw a break-up of the family tie.

Hortense was accommodated in the dining-room, arranged as a bedroomwith the help of the Marshal's money, and the anteroom became thedining-room, as it is in many apartments.

When Wenceslas returned home and had read the two letters, he felt akind of gladness mingled with regret. Kept so constantly under hiswife's eye, so to speak, he had inwardly rebelled against this freshthraldom, /a la/ Lisbeth. Full fed with love for three years past, hetoo had been reflecting during the last fortnight; and he found afamily heavy on his hands. He had just been congratulated by Stidmannon the passion he had inspired in Valerie; for Stidmann, with anunder-thought that was not unnatural, saw that he might flatter thehusband's vanity in the hope of consoling the victim. And Wenceslaswas glad to be able to return to Madame Marneffe.

Still, he remembered the pure and unsullied happiness he had known,the perfections of his wife, her judgment, her innocent and guilelessaffection,--and he regretted her acutely. He thought of going at onceto his mother-in-law's to crave forgiveness; but, in fact, like Hulotand Crevel, he went to Madame Marneffe, to whom he carried his wife'sletter to show her what a disaster she had caused, and to discount hismisfortune, so to speak, by claiming in return the pleasures hismistress could give him.

He found Crevel with Valerie. The mayor, puffed up with pride, marchedup and down the room, agitated by a storm of feelings. He put himselfinto position as if he were about to speak, but he dared not. Hiscountenance was beaming, and he went now and again to the window,where he drummed on the pane with his fingers. He kept looking atValerie with a glance of tender pathos. Happily for him, Lisbethpresently came in.

"Cousin Betty," he said in her ear, "have you heard the news? I am afather! It seems to me I love my poor Celestine the less.--Oh! what athing it is to have a child by the woman one idolizes! It is thefatherhood of the heart added to that of the flesh! I say--tellValerie that I will work for that child--it shall be rich. She tellsme she has some reason for believing that it will be a boy! If it is aboy, I shall insist on his being called Crevel. I will consult mynotary about it."

"I know how much she loves you," said Lisbeth. "But for her sake inthe future, and for your own, control yourself. Do not rub your handsevery five minutes."

While Lisbeth was speaking aside on this wise to Crevel, Valerie hadasked Wenceslas to give her back her letter, and she was saying thingsthat dispelled all his griefs.

"So now you are free, my dear," said she. "Ought any great artist tomarry? You live only by fancy and freedom! There, I shall love you somuch, beloved poet, that you shall never regret your wife. At the sametime, if, like so many people, you want to keep up appearances, Iundertake to bring Hortense back to you in a very short time."

"Oh, if only that were possible!"

"I am certain of it," said Valerie, nettled. "Your poor father-in-lawis a man who is in every way utterly done for; who wants to appear asthough he could be loved, out of conceit, and to make the worldbelieve that he has a mistress; and he is so excessively vain on thispoint, that I can do what I please with him. The Baroness is still sodevoted to her old Hector--I always feel as if I were talking of the/Iliad/--that these two old folks will contrive to patch up mattersbetween you and Hortense. Only, if you want to avoid storms at homefor the future, do not leave me for three weeks without coming to seeyour mistress--I was dying of it. My dear boy, some consideration isdue from a gentleman to a woman he has so deeply compromised,especially when, as in my case, she has to be very careful of herreputation.

"Stay to dinner, my darling--and remember that I must treat you withall the more apparent coldness because you are guilty of this tooobvious mishap."

Baron Montes was presently announced; Valerie rose and hurried forwardto meet him; she spoke a few sentences in his ear, enjoining on himthe same reserve as she had impressed on Wenceslas; the Brazilianassumed a diplomatic reticence suitable to the great news which filledhim with delight, for he, at any rate was sure of his paternity.

Thanks to these tactics, based on the vanity of the man in the loverstage of his existence, Valerie sat down to table with four men, allpleased and eager to please, all charmed, and each believing himselfadored; called by Marneffe, who included himself, in speaking toLisbeth, the five Fathers of the Church.

Baron Hulot alone at first showed an anxious countenance, and this waswhy. Just as he was leaving the office, the head of the staff ofclerks had come to his private room--a General with whom he had servedfor thirty years--and Hulot had spoken to him as to appointingMarneffe to Coquet's place, Coquet having consented to retire.

"My dear fellow," said he, "I would not ask this favor of the Princewithout our having agreed on the matter, and knowing that youapproved."

"My good friend," replied the other, "you must allow me to observethat, for your own sake, you should not insist on this nomination. Ihave already told you my opinion. There would be a scandal in theoffice, where there is a great deal too much talk already about youand Madame Marneffe. This, of course, is between ourselves. I have nowish to touch you on a sensitive spot, or disoblige you in any way,and I will prove it. If you are determined to get Monsieur Coquet'splace, and he will really be a loss in the War Office, for he has beenhere since 1809, I will go into the country for a fortnight, so as toleave the field open between you and the Marshal, who loves you as ason. Then I shall take neither part, and shall have nothing on myconscience as an administrator."

"Thank you very much," said Hulot. "I will reflect on what you havesaid."

"In allowing myself to say so much, my dear friend, it is because yourpersonal interest is far more deeply implicated than any concern orvanity of mine. In the first place, the matter lies entirely with theMarshal. And then, my good fellow, we are blamed for so many things,that one more or less! We are not at the maiden stage in ourexperience of fault-finding. Under the Restoration, men were put insimply to give them places, without any regard for the office.--We areold friends----"

"Yes," the Baron put in; "and it is in order not to impair our old andvalued friendship that I--"

"Well, well," said the departmental manager, seeing Hulot's faceclouded with embarrassment, "I will take myself off, old fellow.--ButI warn you! you have enemies--that is to say, men who covet yoursplendid appointment, and you have but one anchor out. Now if, likeme, you were a Deputy, you would have nothing to fear; so mind whatyou are about."

This speech, in the most friendly spirit, made a deep impression onthe Councillor of State.

"But, after all, Roger, what is it that is wrong? Do not make anymysteries with me."

The individual addressed as Roger looked at Hulot, took his hand, andpressed it.

"We are such old friends, that I am bound to give you warning. If youwant to keep your place, you must make a bed for yourself, and insteadof asking the Marshal to give Coquet's place to Marneffe, in yourplace I would beg him to use his influence to reserve a seat for me onthe General Council of State; there you may die in peace, and, likethe beaver, abandon all else to the pursuers."

"What, do you think the Marshal would forget--"

"The Marshal has already taken your part so warmly at a GeneralMeeting of the Ministers, that you will not now be turned out; but itwas seriously discussed! So give them no excuse. I can say no more. Atthis moment you may make your own terms; you may sit on the Council ofState and be made a Peer of the Chamber. If you delay too long, if yougive any one a hold against you, I can answer for nothing.--Now, am Ito go?"

"Wait a little. I will see the Marshal," replied Hulot, "and I willsend my brother to see which way the wind blows at headquarters."

The humor in which the Baron came back to Madame Marneffe's may beimagined; he had almost forgotten his fatherhood, for Roger had takenthe part of a true and kind friend in explaining the position. At thesame time Valerie's influence was so great that, by the middle ofdinner, the Baron was tuned up to the pitch, and was all the morecheerful for having unwonted anxieties to conceal; but the hapless manwas not yet aware that in the course of that evening he would findhimself in a cleft stick, between his happiness and the danger pointedout by his friend--compelled, in short, to choose between MadameMarneffe and his official position.

At eleven o'clock, when the evening was at its gayest, for the roomwas full of company, Valerie drew Hector into a corner of her sofa.

"My dear old boy," said she, "your daughter is so annoyed at knowingthat Wenceslas comes here, that she has left him 'planted.' Hortenseis wrong-headed. Ask Wenceslas to show you the letter the little foolhas written to him.

"This division of two lovers, of which I am reputed to be the cause,may do me the greatest harm, for this is how virtuous women undermineeach other. It is disgraceful to pose as a victim in order to cast theblame on a woman whose only crime is that she keeps a pleasant house.If you love me, you will clear my character by reconciling the sweetturtle-doves.

"I do not in the least care about your son-in-law's visits; youbrought him here--take him away again! If you have any authority inyour family, it seems to me that you may very well insist on yourwife's patching up this squabble. Tell the worthy old lady from me,that if I am unjustly charged with having caused a young couple toquarrel, with upsetting the unity of a family, and annexing both thefather and the son-in-law, I will deserve my reputation by annoyingthem in my own way! Why, here is Lisbeth talking of throwing me over!She prefers to stick to her family, and I cannot blame her for it. Shewill throw me over, says she, unless the young people make friendsagain. A pretty state of things! Our expenses here will be trebled!"

"Oh, as for that!" said the Baron, on hearing of his daughter's strongmeasures, "I will have no nonsense of that kind."

"Very well," said Valerie. "And now for the next thing.--What aboutCoquet's place?"

"That," said Hector, looking away, "is more difficult, not to sayimpossible."

"Impossible, my dear Hector?" said Madame Marneffe in the Baron's ear."But you do not know to what lengths Marneffe will go. I am completelyin his power; he is immoral for his own gratification, like most men,but he is excessively vindictive, like all weak and impotent natures.In the position to which you have reduced me, I am in his power. I ambound to be on terms with him for a few days, and he is quite capableof refusing to leave my room any more."

Hulot started with horror.

"He would leave me alone on condition of being head-clerk. It isabominable--but logical."

"Valerie, do you love me?"

"In the state in which I am, my dear, the question is the meanestinsult."

"Well, then--if I were to attempt, merely to attempt, to ask thePrince for a place for Marneffe, I should be done for, and Marneffewould be turned out."

"I thought that you and the Prince were such intimate friends."

"We are, and he has amply proved it; but, my child, there is authorityabove the Marshal's--for instance, the whole Council of Ministers.With time and a little tacking, we shall get there. But, to succeed, Imust wait till the moment when some service is required of me. Then Ican say one good turn deserves another--"

"If I tell Marneffe this tale, my poor Hector, he will play us somemean trick. You must tell him yourself that he has to wait. I will notundertake to do so. Oh! I know what my fate would be. He knows how topunish me! He will henceforth share my room----

"Do not forget to settle the twelve hundred francs a year on thelittle one!"

Hulot, seeing his pleasures in danger, took Monsieur Marneffe aside,and for the first time derogated from the haughty tone he had alwaysassumed towards him, so greatly was he horrified by the thought ofthat half-dead creature in his pretty young wife's bedroom.

"Marneffe, my dear fellow," said he, "I have been talking of youto-day. But you cannot be promoted to the first class just yet. Wemust have time."

"I will be, Monsieur le Baron," said Marneffe shortly.

"But, my dear fellow--"

"I /will/ be, Monsieur le Baron," Marneffe coldly repeated, lookingalternately at the Baron and at Valerie. "You have placed my wife in aposition that necessitates her making up her differences with me, andI mean to keep her; for, /my dear fellow/, she is a charmingcreature," he added, with crushing irony. "I am master here--more thanyou are at the War Office."

The Baron felt one of those pangs of fury which have the effect, inthe heart, of a fit of raging toothache, and he could hardly concealthe tears in his eyes.

During this little scene, Valerie had been explaining Marneffe'simaginary determination to Montes, and thus had rid herself of him fora time.

Of her four adherents, Crevel alone was exempted from the rule--Crevel, the master of the little "bijou" apartment; and he displayedon his countenance an air of really insolent beatitude,notwithstanding the wordless reproofs administered by Valerie infrowns and meaning grimaces. His triumphant paternity beamed in everyfeature.

When Valerie was whispering a word of correction in his ear, hesnatched her hand, and put in:

"To-morrow, my Duchess, you shall have your own little house! Thepapers are to be signed to-morrow."

"And the furniture?" said she, with a smile.

"I have a thousand shares in the Versailles /rive gauche/ railway. Ibought them at twenty-five, and they will go up to three hundred inconsequence of the amalgamation of the two lines, which is a secrettold to me. You shall have furniture fit for a queen. But then youwill be mine alone henceforth?"

"My dear cousin," Lisbeth was saying to the Baron, "I shall go to seeAdeline early to-morrow; for, as you must see, I cannot, with anydecency, remain here. I will go and keep house for your brother theMarshal."

"I am going home this evening," said Hulot.

"Very well, you will see me at breakfast to-morrow," said Lisbeth,smiling.

She understood that her presence would be necessary at the familyscene that would take place on the morrow. And the very first thing inthe morning she went to see Victorin and to tell him that Hortense andWenceslas had parted.

When the Baron went home at half-past ten, Mariette and Louise, whohad had a hard day, were locking up the apartment. Hulot had not toring.

Very much put out at this compulsory virtue, the husband went straightto his wife's room, and through the half-open door he saw her kneelingbefore her Crucifix, absorbed in prayer, in one of those attitudeswhich make the fortune of the painter or the sculptor who is so happyto invent and then to express them. Adeline, carried away by herenthusiasm, was praying aloud:

"O God, have mercy and enlighten him!"

The Baroness was praying for her Hector.

At this sight, so unlike what he had just left, and on hearing thispetition founded on the events of the day, the Baron heaved a sigh ofdeep emotion. Adeline looked round, her face drowned in tears. She wasso convinced that her prayer had been heard, that, with one spring,she threw her arms round Hector with the impetuosity of happyaffection. Adeline had given up all a wife's instincts; sorrow hadeffaced even the memory of them. No feeling survived in her but thoseof motherhood, of the family honor, and the pure attachment of aChristian wife for a husband who has gone astray--the saintlytenderness which survives all else in a woman's soul.

"Hector!" she said, "are you come back to us? Has God taken pity onour family?"

"Dear Adeline," replied the Baron, coming in and seating his wife byhis side on a couch, "you are the saintliest creature I ever knew; Ihave long known myself to be unworthy of you."

"You would have very little to do, my dear," said she, holding Hulot'shand and trembling so violently that it was as though she had a palsy,"very little to set things in order--"

She dared not proceed; she felt that every word would be a reproof,and she did not wish to mar the happiness with which this meeting wasinundating her soul.

"It is Hortense who has brought me here," said Hulot. "That child maydo us far more harm by her hasty proceeding than my absurd passion forValerie has ever done. But we will discuss all this to-morrow morning.Hortense is asleep, Mariette tells me; we will not disturb her."

"Yes," said Madame Hulot, suddenly plunged into the depths of grief.

She understood that the Baron's return was prompted not so much by thewish to see his family as by some ulterior interest.

"Leave her in peace till to-morrow," said the mother. "The poor childis in a deplorable condition; she has been crying all day."

At nine the next morning, the Baron, awaiting his daughter, whom hehad sent for, was pacing the large, deserted drawing-room, trying tofind arguments by which to conquer the most difficult form ofobstinacy there is to deal with--that of a young wife, offended andimplacable, as blameless youth ever is, in its ignorance of thedisgraceful compromises of the world, of its passions and interests.

"Here I am, papa," said Hortense in a tremulous voice, and lookingpale from her miseries.

Hulot, sitting down, took his daughter round the waist, and drew herdown to sit on his knee.

"Well, my child," said he, kissing her forehead, "so there aretroubles at home, and you have been hasty and headstrong? That is notlike a well-bred child. My Hortense ought not to have taken such adecisive step as that of leaving her house and deserting her husbandon her own account, and without consulting her parents. If my darlinggirl had come to see her kind and admirable mother, she would not havegiven me this cruel pain I feel!--You do not know the world; it ismalignantly spiteful. People will perhaps say that your husband sentyou back to your parents. Children brought up as you were, on yourmother's lap, remain artless; maidenly passion like yours forWenceslas, unfortunately, makes no allowances; it acts on everyimpulse. The little heart is moved, the head follows suit. You wouldburn down Paris to be revenged, with no thought of the courts ofjustice!

"When your old father tells you that you have outraged theproprieties, you may take his word for it.--I say nothing of the cruelpain you have given me. It is bitter, I assure you, for you throw allthe blame on a woman of whose heart you know nothing, and whosehostility may become disastrous. And you, alas! so full of guilelessinnocence and purity, can have no suspicions; but you may be vilifiedand slandered.--Besides, my darling pet, you have taken a foolish jesttoo seriously. I can assure you, on my honor, that your husband isblameless. Madame Marneffe--"

So far the Baron, artistically diplomatic, had formulated hisremonstrances very judiciously. He had, as may be observed, worked upto the mention of this name with superior skill; and yet Hortense, asshe heard it, winced as if stung to the quick.

"Listen to me; I have had great experience, and I have seen much," hewent on, stopping his daughter's attempt to speak. "That lady is verycold to your husband. Yes, you have been made the victim of apractical joke, and I will prove it to you. Yesterday Wenceslas wasdining with her--"

"Dining with her!" cried the young wife, starting to her feet, andlooking at her father with horror in every feature. "Yesterday! Afterhaving had my letter! Oh, great God!--Why did I not take the veilrather than marry? But now my life is not my own! I have the child!"and she sobbed.

Her weeping went to Madame Hulot's heart. She came out of her room andran to her daughter, taking her in her arms, and asking her thosequestions, stupid with grief, which first rose to her lips.

"Now we have tears," said the Baron to himself, "and all was going sowell! What is to be done with women who cry?"

"My child," said the Baroness, "listen to your father! He loves us all--come, come--"

"Come, Hortense, my dear little girl, cry no more, you make yourselftoo ugly!" said the Baron, "Now, be a little reasonable. Go sensiblyhome, and I promise you that Wenceslas shall never set foot in thatwoman's house. I ask you to make the sacrifice, if it is a sacrificeto forgive the husband you love so small a fault. I ask you--for thesake of my gray hairs, and of the love you owe your mother. You do notwant to blight my later years with bitterness and regret?"

Hortense fell at her father's feet like a crazed thing, with thevehemence of despair; her hair, loosely pinned up, fell about her, andshe held out her hands with an expression that painted her misery.

"Father," she said, "ask my life! Take it if you will, but at leasttake it pure and spotless, and I will yield it up gladly. Do not askme to die in dishonor and crime. I am not at all like my husband; Icannot swallow an outrage. If I went back under my husband's roof, Ishould be capable of smothering him in a fit of jealousy--or of doingworse! Do no exact from me a thing that is beyond my powers. Do nothave to mourn for me still living, for the least that can befall me isto go mad. I feel madness close upon me!

"Yesterday, yesterday, he could dine with that woman, after havingread my letter?--Are other men made so? My life I give you, but do notlet my death be ignominious!--His fault?--A small one! When he has achild by that woman!"

"A child!" cried Hulot, starting back a step or two. "Come. This isreally some fooling."

At this juncture Victorin and Lisbeth arrived, and stood dumfounded atthe scene. The daughter was prostrate at her father's feet. TheBaroness, speechless between her maternal feelings and her conjugalduty, showed a harassed face bathed in tears.

"Lisbeth," said the Baron, seizing his cousin by the hand and pointingto Hortense, "you can help me here. My poor child's brain is turned;she believes that her Wenceslas is Madame Marneffe's lover, while allthat Valerie wanted was to have a group by him."

"/Delilah/!" cried the young wife. "The only thing he has done sinceour marriage. The man would not work for me or for his son, and he hasworked with frenzy for that good-for-nothing creature.--Oh, father,kill me outright, for every word stabs like a knife!"

Lisbeth turned to the Baroness and Victorin, pointing with a pityingshrug to the Baron, who could not see her.

"Listen to me," said she to him. "I had no idea--when you asked me togo to lodge over Madame Marneffe and keep house for her--I had no ideaof what she was; but many things may be learned in three years. Thatcreature is a prostitute, and one whose depravity can only be comparedwith that of her infamous and horrible husband. You are the dupe, mylord pot-boiler, of those people; you will be led further by them thanyou dream of! I speak plainly, for you are at the bottom of a pit."

The Baroness and her daughter, hearing Lisbeth speak in this style,cast adoring looks at her, such as the devout cast at a Madonna forhaving saved their life.

"That horrible woman was bent on destroying your son-in-law's home. Towhat end?--I know not. My brain is not equal to seeing clearly intothese dark intrigues--perverse, ignoble, infamous! Your MadameMarneffe does not love your son-in-law, but she will have him at herfeet out of revenge. I have just spoken to the wretched woman as shedeserves. She is a shameless courtesan; I have told her that I amleaving her house, that I would not have my honor smirched in thatmuck-heap.--I owe myself to my family before all else.

"I knew that Hortense had left her husband, so here I am. YourValerie, whom you believe to be a saint, is the cause of thismiserable separation; can I remain with such a woman? Our poor littleHortense," said she, touching the Baron's arm, with peculiar meaning,"is perhaps the dupe of a wish of such women as these, who, to possessa toy, would sacrifice a family.

"I do not think Wenceslas guilty; but I think him weak, and I cannotpromise that he will not yield to her refinements of temptation.--Mymind is made up. The woman is fatal to you; she will bring you all toutter ruin. I will not even seem to be concerned in the destruction ofmy own family, after living there for three years solely to hinder it.

"You are cheated, Baron; say very positively that you will havenothing to say to the promotion of that dreadful Marneffe, and youwill see then! There is a fine rod in pickle for you in that case."

Lisbeth lifted up Hortense and kissed her enthusiastically.

"My dear Hortense, stand firm," she whispered.

The Baroness embraced Lisbeth with the vehemence of a woman who seesherself avenged. The whole family stood in perfect silence round thefather, who had wit enough to know what that silence implied. A stormof fury swept across his brow and face with evident signs; the veinsswelled, his eyes were bloodshot, his flesh showed patches of color.Adeline fell on her knees before him and seized his hands.

"My dear, forgive, my dear!"

"You loathe me!" cried the Baron--the cry of his conscience.

For we all know the secret of our own wrong-doing. We almost alwaysascribe to our victims the hateful feelings which must fill them withthe hope of revenge; and in spite of every effort of hypocrisy, ourtongue or our face makes confession under the rack of some unexpectedanguish, as the criminal of old confessed under the hands of thetorturer.

"Our children," he went on, to retract the avowal, "turn at last to beour enemies--"

"Father!" Victorin began.

"You dare to interrupt your father!" said the Baron in a voice ofthunder, glaring at his son.

"Father, listen to me," Victorin went on in a clear, firm voice, thevoice of a puritanical deputy. "I know the respect I owe you too wellever to fail in it, and you will always find me the most respectfuland submissive of sons."

Those who are in the habit of attending the sittings of the Chamberwill recognize the tactics of parliamentary warfare in these fine-drawn phrases, used to calm the factions while gaining time.

"We are far from being your enemies," his son went on. "I havequarreled with my father-in-law, Monsieur Crevel, for having rescuedyour notes of hand for sixty thousand francs from Vauvinet, and thatmoney is, beyond doubt, in Madame Marneffe's pocket.--I am not findingfault with you, father," said he, in reply to an impatient gesture ofthe Baron's; "I simply wish to add my protest to my cousin Lisbeth's,and to point out to you that though my devotion to you as a father isblind and unlimited, my dear father, our pecuniary resources,unfortunately, are very limited."

"Money!" cried the excitable old man, dropping on to a chair, quitecrushed by this argument. "From my son!--You shall be repaid yourmoney, sir," said he, rising, and he went to the door.

"Hector!"

At this cry the Baron turned round, suddenly showing his wife a facebathed in tears; she threw her arms round him with the strength ofdespair.

"Do not leave us thus--do not go away in anger. I have not said a word--not I!"

At this heart-wrung speech the children fell at their father's feet.

"We all love you," said Hortense.

Lisbeth, as rigid as a statue, watched the group with a superior smileon her lips. Just then Marshal Hulot's voice was heard in theanteroom. The family all felt the importance of secrecy, and the scenesuddenly changed. The young people rose, and every one tried to hideall traces of emotion.

A discussion was going on at the door between Mariette and a soldier,who was so persistent that the cook came in.

"Monsieur, a regimental quartermaster, who says he is just come fromAlgiers, insists on seeing you."

"Tell him to wait."

"Monsieur," said Mariette to her master in an undertone, "he told meto tell you privately that it has to do with your uncle there."

The Baron started; he believed that the funds had been sent at lastwhich he had been asking for these two months, to pay up his bills; heleft the family-party, and hurried out to the anteroom.

"You are Monsieur de Paron Hulot?"

"Yes."

"Your own self?"

"My own self."

The man, who had been fumbling meanwhile in the lining of his cap,drew out a letter, of which the Baron hastily broke the seal, and readas follows:--

"DEAR NEPHEW,--Far from being able to send you the hundred thousand francs you ask of me, my present position is not tenable unless you can take some decisive steps to save me. We are saddled with a public prosecutor who talks goody, and rhodomontades nonsense about the management. It is impossible to get the black- chokered pump to hold his tongue. If the War Minister allows civilians to feed out of his hand, I am done for. I can trust the bearer; try to get him promoted; he has done us good service. Do not abandon me to the crows!"

This letter was a thunderbolt; the Baron could read in it theintestine warfare between civil and military authorities, which tothis day hampers the Government, and he was required to invent on thespot some palliative for the difficulty that stared him in the face.He desired the soldier to come back next day, dismissing him withsplendid promises of promotion, and he returned to the drawing-room."Good-day and good-bye, brother," said he to the Marshal.--"Good-bye,children.--Good-bye, my dear Adeline.--And what are you going to do,Lisbeth?" he asked.

"I?--I am going to keep house for the Marshal, for I must end my daysdoing what I can for one or another of you."

"Do not leave Valerie till I have seen you again," said Hulot in hiscousin's ear.--"Good-bye, Hortense, refractory little puss; try to bereasonable. I have important business to be attended to at once; wewill discuss your reconciliation another time. Now, think it over, mychild," said he as he kissed her.

And he went away, so evidently uneasy, that his wife and children feltthe gravest apprehensions.

"Lisbeth," said the Baroness, "I must find out what is wrong withHector; I never saw him in such a state. Stay a day or two longer withthat woman; he tells her everything, and we can then learn what has sosuddenly upset him. Be quite easy; we will arrange your marriage tothe Marshal, for it is really necessary."

"I shall never forget the courage you have shown this morning," saidHortense, embracing Lisbeth.

"You have avenged our poor mother," said Victorin.

The Marshal looked on with curiosity at all the display of affectionlavished on Lisbeth, who went off to report the scene to Valerie.

This sketch will enable guileless souls to understand what variousmischief Madame Marneffes may do in a family, and the means by whichthey reach poor virtuous wives apparently so far out of their ken. Andthen, if we only transfer, in fancy, such doings to the upper class ofsociety about a throne, and if we consider what kings' mistresses musthave cost them, we may estimate the debt owed by a nation to asovereign who sets the example of a decent and domestic life.

In Paris each ministry is a little town by itself, whence women arebanished; but there is just as much detraction and scandal as thoughthe feminine population were admitted there. At the end of threeyears, Monsieur Marneffe's position was perfectly clear and open tothe day, and in every room one and another asked, "Is Marneffe to be,or not to be, Coquet's successor?" Exactly as the question might havebeen put to the Chamber, "Will the estimates pass or not pass?" Thesmallest initiative on the part of the board of Management wascommented on; everything in Baron Hulot's department was carefullynoted. The astute State Councillor had enlisted on his side the victimof Marneffe's promotion, a hard-working clerk, telling him that if hecould fill Marneffe's place, he would certainly succeed to it; he hadtold him that the man was dying. So this clerk was scheming forMarneffe's advancement.

When Hulot went through his anteroom, full of visitors, he sawMarneffe's colorless face in a corner, and sent for him before any oneelse.

"What do you want of me, my dear fellow?" said the Baron, disguisinghis anxiety.

"Monsieur le Directeur, I am the laughing-stock of the office, for ithas become known that the chief of the clerks has left this morningfor a holiday, on the ground of his health. He is to be away a month.Now, we all know what waiting for a month means. You deliver me overto the mockery of my enemies, and it is bad enough to be drummed uponone side; drumming on both at once, monsieur, is apt to burst thedrum."

"My dear Marneffe, it takes long patience to gain an end. You cannotbe made head-clerk in less than two months, if ever. Just when I must,as far as possible, secure my own position, is not the time to beapplying for your promotion, which would raise a scandal."

"If you are broke, I shall never get it," said Marneffe coolly. "Andif you get me the place, it will make no difference in the end."

"Then I am to sacrifice myself for you?" said the Baron.

"If you do not, I shall be much mistaken in you."

"You are too exclusively Marneffe, Monsieur Marneffe," said Hulot,rising and showing the clerk the door.

"I have the honor to wish you good-morning, Monsieur le Baron," saidMarneffe humbly.

"What an infamous rascal!" thought the Baron. "This is uncommonly likea summons to pay within twenty-four hours on pain of distraint."

Two hours later, just when the Baron had been instructing ClaudeVignon, whom he was sending to the Ministry of Justice to obtaininformation as to the judicial authorities under whose jurisdictionJohann Fischer might fall, Reine opened the door of his private roomand gave him a note, saying she would wait for the answer.

"Valerie is mad!" said the Baron to himself. "To send Reine! It isenough to compromise us all, and it certainly compromises thatdreadful Marneffe's chances of promotion!"

But he dismissed the minister's private secretary, and read asfollows:--

"Oh, my dear friend, what a scene I have had to endure! Though you have made me happy for three years, I have paid dearly for it! He came in from the office in a rage that made me quake. I knew he was ugly; I have seen him a monster! His four real teeth chattered, and he threatened me with his odious presence without respite if I should continue to receive you. My poor, dear old boy, our door is closed against you henceforth. You see my tears; they are dropping on the paper and soaking it; can you read what I write, dear Hector? Oh, to think of never seeing you, of giving you up when I bear in me some of your life, as I flatter myself I have your heart--it is enough to kill me. Think of our little Hector!

"Do not forsake me, but do not disgrace yourself for Marneffe's sake; do not yield to his threats.

"I love you as I have never loved! I remember all the sacrifices you have made for your Valerie; she is not, and never will be, ungrateful; you are, and will ever be, my only husband. Think no more of the twelve hundred francs a year I asked you to settle on the dear little Hector who is to come some months hence; I will not cost you anything more. And besides, my money will always be yours.

"Oh, if you only loved me as I love you, my Hector, you would retire on your pension; we should both take leave of our family, our worries, our surroundings, so full of hatred, and we should go to live with Lisbeth in some pretty country place--in Brittany, or wherever you like. There we should see nobody, and we should be happy away from the world. Your pension and the little property I can call my own would be enough for us. You say you are jealous; well, you would then have your Valerie entirely devoted to her Hector, and you would never have to talk in a loud voice, as you did the other day. I shall have but one child--ours--you may be sure, my dearly loved old veteran.

"You cannot conceive of my fury, for you cannot know how he treated me, and the foul words he vomited on your Valerie. Such words would disgrace my paper; a woman such as I am--Montcornet's daughter--ought never to have heard one of them in her life. I only wish you had been there, that I might have punished him with the sight of the mad passion I felt for you. My father would have killed the wretch; I can only do as women do--love you devotedly! Indeed, my love, in the state of exasperation in which I am, I cannot possibly give up seeing you. I must positively see you, in secret, every day! That is what we are, we women. Your resentment is mine. If you love me, I implore you, do not let him be promoted; leave him to die a second-class clerk.

"At this moment I have lost my head; I still seem to hear him abusing me. Betty, who had meant to leave me, has pity on me, and will stay for a few days.

"My dear kind love, I do not know yet what is to be done. I see nothing for it but flight. I always delight in the country-- Brittany, Languedoc, what you will, so long as I am free to love you. Poor dear, how I pity you! Forced now to go back to your old Adeline, to that lachrymal urn--for, as he no doubt told you, the monster means to watch me night and day; he spoke of a detective! Do not come here, he is capable of anything I know, since he could make use of me for the basest purposes of speculation. I only wish I could return you all the things I have received from your generosity.

"Ah! my kind Hector, I may have flirted, and have seemed to you to be fickle, but you did not know your Valerie; she liked to tease you, but she loves you better than any one in the world.

"He cannot prevent your coming to see your cousin; I will arrange with her that we have speech with each other. My dear old boy, write me just a line, pray, to comfort me in the absence of your dear self. (Oh, I would give one of my hands to have you by me on our sofa!) A letter will work like a charm; write me something full of your noble soul; I will return your note to you, for I must be cautious; I should not know where to hide it, he pokes his nose in everywhere. In short, comfort your Valerie, your little wife, the mother of your child.--To think of my having to write to you, when I used to see you every day. As I say to Lisbeth, 'I did not know how happy I was.' A thousand kisses, dear boy. Be true to your

"VALERIE."

"And tears!" said Hulot to himself as he finished this letter, "tearswhich have blotted out her name.--How is she?" said he to Reine.

"Madame is in bed; she has dreadful spasms," replied Reine. "She had afit of hysterics that twisted her like a withy round a faggot. It cameon after writing. It comes of crying so much. She heard monsieur'svoice on the stairs."

The Baron in his distress wrote the following note on office paperwith a printed heading:--

"Be quite easy, my angel, he will die a second-class clerk!--Your idea is admirable; we will go and live far from Paris, where we shall be happy with our little Hector; I will retire on my pension, and I shall be sure to find some good appointment on a railway.

"Ah, my sweet friend, I feel so much the younger for your letter! I shall begin life again and make a fortune, you will see, for our dear little one. As I read your letter, a thousand times more ardent than those of the /Nouvelle Heloise/, it worked a miracle! I had not believed it possible that I could love you more. This evening, at Lisbeth's you will see

"YOUR HECTOR, FOR LIFE."

Reine carried off this reply, the first letter the Baron had writtento his "sweet friend." Such emotions to some extent counterbalancedthe disasters growling in the distance; but the Baron, at this momentbelieving he could certainly avert the blows aimed at his uncle,Johann Fischer, thought only of the deficit.

One of the characteristics of the Bonapartist temperament is a firmbelief in the power of the sword, and confidence in the superiority ofthe military over civilians. Hulot laughed to scorn the PublicProsecutor in Algiers, where the War Office is supreme. Man is alwayswhat he has once been. How can the officers of the Imperial Guardforget that time was when the mayors of the largest towns in theEmpire and the Emperor's prefects, Emperors themselves on a minutescale, would come out to meet the Imperial Guard, to pay theirrespects on the borders of the Departments through which it passed,and to do it, in short, the homage due to sovereigns?

At half-past four the baron went straight to Madame Marneffe's; hisheart beat as high as a young man's as he went upstairs, for he wasasking himself this question, "Shall I see her? or shall I not?"

How was he now to remember the scene of the morning when his weepingchildren had knelt at his feet? Valerie's note, enshrined for ever ina thin pocket-book over his heart, proved to him that she loved himmore than the most charming of young men.

Having rung, the unhappy visitor heard within the shuffling slippersand vexatious scraping cough of the detestable master. Marneffe openedthe door, but only to put himself into an attitude and point to thestairs, exactly as Hulot had shown him the door of his private room.

"You are too exclusively Hulot, Monsieur Hulot!" said he.

The Baron tried to pass him, Marneffe took a pistol out of his pocketand cocked it.

"Monsieur le Baron," said he, "when a man is as vile as I am--for youthink me very vile, don't you?--he would be the meanest galley-slaveif he did not get the full benefit of his betrayed honor.--You are forwar; it will be hot work and no quarter. Come here no more, and do notattempt to get past me. I have given the police notice of my positionwith regard to you."

And taking advantage of Hulot's amazement, he pushed him out and shutthe door.

"What a low scoundrel!" said Hulot to himself, as he went upstairs toLisbeth. "I understand her letter now. Valerie and I will go away fromParis. Valerie is wholly mine for the remainder of my days; she willclose my eyes."

Lisbeth was out. Madame Olivier told the Baron that she had gone tohis wife's house, thinking that she would find him there.

"Poor thing! I should never have expected her to be so sharp as shewas this morning," thought Hulot, recalling Lisbeth's behavior as hemade his way from the Rue Vanneau to the Rue Plumet.

As he turned the corner of the Rue Vanneau and the Rue de Babylone, helooked back at the Eden whence Hymen had expelled him with the swordof the law. Valerie, at her window, was watching his departure; as heglanced up, she waved her handkerchief, but the rascally Marneffe hithis wife's cap and dragged her violently away from the window. A tearrose to the great official's eye.

"Oh! to be so well loved! To see a woman so ill used, and to be sonearly seventy years old!" thought he.

Lisbeth had come to give the family the good news. Adeline andHortense had already heard that the Baron, not choosing to compromisehimself in the eyes of the whole office by appointing Marneffe to thefirst class, would be turned from the door by the Hulot-hatinghusband. Adeline, very happy, had ordered a dinner that her Hector wasto like better than any of Valerie's; and Lisbeth, in her devotion,was helping Mariette to achieve this difficult result. Cousin Bettywas the idol of the hour. Mother and daughter kissed her hands, andhad told her with touching delight that the Marshal consented to haveher as his housekeeper.

"And from that, my dear, there is but one step to becoming his wife!"said Adeline.

"In fact, he did not say no when Victorin mentioned it," added theCountess.

The Baron was welcomed home with such charming proofs of affection, sopathetically overflowing with love, that he was fain to conceal histroubles.

Marshal Hulot came to dinner. After dinner, Hector did not go out.Victorin and his wife joined them, and they made up a rubber.

"It is a long time, Hector, said the Marshal gravely, "since you gaveus the treat of such an evening."

This speech from the old soldier, who spoiled his brother though hethus implicitly blamed him, made a deep impression. It showed how wideand deep were the wounds in a heart where all the woes he had divinedhad found an echo. At eight o'clock the Baron insisted on seeingLisbeth home, promising to return.

"Do you know, Lisbeth, he ill-treats her!" said he in the street. "Oh,I never loved her so well!"

"I never imagined that Valerie loved you so well," replied Lisbeth."She is frivolous and a coquette, she loves to have attentions paidher, and to have the comedy of love-making performed for her, as shesays; but you are her only real attachment."

"What message did she send me?"

"Why, this," said Lisbeth. "She has, as you know, been on intimateterms with Crevel. You must owe her no grudge, for that, in fact, iswhat has raised her above utter poverty for the rest of her life; butshe detests him, and matters are nearly at an end.--Well, she has keptthe key of some rooms--"

"Rue du Dauphin!" cried the thrice-blest Baron. "If it were for thatalone, I would overlook Crevel.--I have been there; I know."

"Here, then, is the key," said Lisbeth. "Have another made from it inthe course of to-morrow--two if you can."

"And then," said Hulot eagerly.

"Well, I will dine at your house again to-morrow; you must give meback Valerie's key, for old Crevel might ask her to return it to him,and you can meet her there the day after; then you can decide whatyour facts are to be. You will be quite safe, as there are two waysout. If by chance Crevel, who is /Regence/ in his habits, as he isfond of saying, should come in by the side street, you could go outthrough the shop, or /vice versa/.

"You owe all this to me, you old villain; now what will you do forme?"

"Whatever you want."

"Then you will not oppose my marrying your brother?"

"You! the Marechale Hulot, the Comtesse de Frozheim?" cried Hector,startled.

"Well, Adeline is a Baroness!" retorted Betty in a vicious andformidable tone. "Listen to me, you old libertine. You know howmatters stand; your family may find itself starving in the gutter--"

"That is what I dread," said Hulot in dismay.

"And if your brother were to die, who would maintain your wife anddaughter? The widow of a Marshal gets at least six thousand francspension, doesn't she? Well, then, I wish to marry to secure bread foryour wife and daughter--old dotard!"

"I had not seen it in that light!" said the Baron. "I will talk to mybrother--for we are sure of you.--Tell my angel that my life is hers."

And the Baron, having seen Lisbeth go into the house in the RueVanneau, went back to his whist and stayed at home. The Baroness wasat the height of happiness; her husband seemed to be returning todomestic habits; for about a fortnight he went to his office at nineevery morning, he came in to dinner at six, and spent the evening withhis family. He twice took Adeline and Hortense to the play. The motherand daughter paid for three thanksgiving masses, and prayed to God tosuffer them to keep the husband and father He had restored to them.

One evening Victorin Hulot, seeing his father retire for the night,said to his mother:

"Well, we are at any rate so far happy that my father has come back tous. My wife and I shall never regret our capital if only this lasts--"

"Your father is nearly seventy," said the Baroness. "He still thinksof Madame Marneffe, that I can see; but he will forget her in time. Apassion for women is not like gambling, or speculation, or avarice;there is an end to it."

But Adeline, still beautiful in spite of her fifty years and hersorrows, in this was mistaken. Profligates, men whom Nature has giftedwith the precious power of loving beyond the limits ordinarily set tolove, rarely are as old as their age.

During this relapse into virtue Baron Hulot had been three times tothe Rue du Dauphin, and had certainly not been the man of seventy. Hisrekindled passion made him young again, and he would have sacrificedhis honor to Valerie, his family, his all, without a regret. ButValerie, now completely altered, never mentioned money, not even thetwelve hundred francs a year to be settled on their son; on thecontrary, she offered him money, she loved Hulot as a woman of six-and-thirty loves a handsome law-student--a poor, poetical, ardent boy.And the hapless wife fancied she had reconquered her dear Hector!

The fourth meeting between this couple had been agreed upon at the endof the third, exactly as formerly in Italian theatres the play wasannounced for the next night. The hour fixed was nine in the morning.On the next day when the happiness was due for which the amorous oldman had resigned himself to domestic rules, at about eight in themorning, Reine came and asked to see the Baron. Hulot, fearing somecatastrophe, went out to speak with Reine, who would not come into theanteroom. The faithful waiting-maid gave him the following note:--

"DEAR OLD MAN,--Do not go to the Rue du Dauphin. Our incubus is ill, and I must nurse him; but be there this evening at nine. Crevel is at Corbeil with Monsieur Lebas; so I am sure he will bring no princess to his little palace. I have made arrangements here to be free for the night and get back before Marneffe is awake. Answer me as to all this, for perhaps your long elegy of a wife no longer allows you your liberty as she did. I am told she is still so handsome that you might play me false, you are such a gay dog! Burn this note; I am suspicious of every one."

Hulot wrote this scrap in reply:

"MY LOVE,--As I have told you, my wife has not for five-and-twenty years interfered with my pleasures. For you I would give up a hundred Adelines.--I will be in the Crevel sanctum at nine this evening awaiting my divinity. Oh that your clerk might soon die! We should part no more. And this is the dearest wish of

"YOUR HECTOR."

That evening the Baron told his wife that he had business with theMinister at Saint-Cloud, that he would come home at about four or fivein the morning; and he went to the Rue du Dauphin. It was towards theend of the month of June.

Few men have in the course of their life known really the dreadfulsensation of going to their death; those who have returned from thefoot of the scaffold may be easily counted. But some have had a vividexperience of it in dreams; they have gone through it all, to thesensation of the knife at their throat, at the moment when waking anddaylight come to release them.--Well, the sensation to which theCouncillor of State was a victim at five in the morning in Crevel'shandsome and elegant bed, was immeasurably worse than that of feelinghimself bound to the fatal block in the presence of ten thousandspectators looking at you with twenty thousand sparks of fire.

Valerie was asleep in a graceful attitude. She was lovely, as a womanis who is lovely enough to look so even in sleep. It is art invadingnature; in short, a living picture.

In his horizontal position the Baron's eyes were but three feet abovethe floor. His gaze, wandering idly, as that of a man who is justawake and collecting his ideas, fell on a door painted with flowers byJan, an artist disdainful of fame. The Baron did not indeed see twentythousand flaming eyes, like the man condemned to death; he saw butone, of which the shaft was really more piercing than the thousands onthe Public Square.

Now this sensation, far rarer in the midst of enjoyment even than thatof a man condemned to death, was one for which many a spleneticEnglishman would certainly pay a high price. The Baron lay there,horizontal still, and literally bathed in cold sweat. He tried todoubt the fact; but this murderous eye had a voice. A sound ofwhispering was heard through the door.

"So long as it is nobody but Crevel playing a trick on me!" said theBaron to himself, only too certain of an intruder in the temple.

The door was opened. The Majesty of the French Law, which in alldocuments follows next to the King, became visible in the person of aworthy little police-officer supported by a tall Justice of the Peace,both shown in by Monsieur Marneffe. The police functionary, rooted inshoes of which the straps were tied together with flapping bows, endedat top in a yellow skull almost bare of hair, and a face betraying himas a wide-awake, cheerful, and cunning dog, from whom Paris life hadno secrets. His eyes, though garnished with spectacles, pierced theglasses with a keen mocking glance. The Justice of the Peace, aretired attorney, and an old admirer of the fair sex, envied thedelinquent.

"Pray excuse the strong measures required by our office, Monsieur leBaron!" said the constable; "we are acting for the plaintiff. TheJustice of the Peace is here to authorize the visitation of thepremises.--I know who you are, and who the lady is who is accused."

Valerie opened her astonished eyes, gave such a shriek as actressesuse to depict madness on the stage, writhed in convulsions on the bed,like a witch of the Middle Ages in her sulphur-colored frock on a bedof faggots.

With one bound she passed the three spectators and crouched under thelittle writing-table, hiding her face in her hands.

"Ruin! Death!" she cried.

"Monsieur," said Marneffe to Hulot, "if Madame Marneffe goes mad, youare worse than a profligate; you will be a murderer."

What can a man do, what can he say, when he is discovered in a bedwhich is not his, even on the score of hiring, with a woman who is nomore his than the bed is?--Well, this:

"Monsieur the Justice of the Peace, Monsieur the Police Officer," saidthe Baron with some dignity, "be good enough to take proper care ofthat unhappy woman, whose reason seems to me to be in danger.--You canharangue me afterwards. The doors are locked, no doubt; you need notfear that she will get away, or I either, seeing the costume we wear."

The two functionaries bowed to the magnate's injunctions.

"You, come here, miserable cur!" said Hulot in a low voice toMarneffe, taking him by the arm and drawing him closer. "It is not I,but you, who will be the murderer! You want to be head-clerk of yourroom and officer of the Legion of Honor?"

"That in the first place, Chief!" replied Marneffe, with a bow.

"You shall be all that, only soothe your wife and dismiss thesefellows."

"Nay, nay!" said Marneffe knowingly. "These gentlemen must draw uptheir report as eyewitnesses to the fact; without that, the chiefevidence in my case, where should I be? The higher official ranks arechokeful of rascalities. You have done me out of my wife, and you havenot promoted me, Monsieur le Baron; I give you only two days to getout of the scrape. Here are some letters--"

"Some letters!" interrupted Hulot.

"Yes; letters which prove that you are the father of the child my wifeexpects to give birth to.--You understand? And you ought to settle onmy son a sum equal to what he will lose through this bastard. But Iwill be reasonable; this does not distress me, I have no mania forpaternity myself. A hundred louis a year will satisfy me. By to-morrowI must be Monsieur Coquet's successor and see my name on the list forpromotion in the Legion of Honor at the July fetes, or else--thedocumentary evidence and my charge against you will be laid before theBench. I am not so hard to deal with after all, you see."

"Bless me, and such a pretty woman!" said the Justice of the Peace tothe police constable. "What a loss to the world if she should go mad!"

"She is not mad," said the constable sententiously. The police isalways the incarnation of scepticism.--"Monsieur le Baron Hulot hasbeen caught by a trick," he added, loud enough for Valerie to hearhim.

Valerie shot a flash from her eye which would have killed him on thespot if looks could effect the vengeance they express. The police-officer smiled; he had laid a snare, and the woman had fallen into it.Marneffe desired his wife to go into the other room and clothe herselfdecently, for he and the Baron had come to an agreement on all points,and Hulot fetched his dressing-gown and came out again.

"Gentlemen," said he to the two officials, "I need not impress on youto be secret."

The functionaries bowed.

The police-officer rapped twice on the door; his clerk came in, satdown at the "bonheur-du-jour," and wrote what the constable dictatedto him in an undertone. Valerie still wept vehemently. When she wasdressed, Hulot went into the other room and put on his clothes.Meanwhile the report was written.

Marneffe then wanted to take his wife home; but Hulot, believing thathe saw her for the last time, begged the favor of being allowed tospeak with her.

"Monsieur, your wife has cost me dear enough for me to be allowed tosay good-bye to her--in the presence of you all, of course."

Valerie went up to Hulot, and he whispered in her ear:

"There is nothing left for us but to fly, but how can we correspond?We have been betrayed--"

"Through Reine," she answered. "But my dear friend, after this scandalwe can never meet again. I am disgraced. Besides, you will heardreadful things about me--you will believe them--"

The Baron made a gesture of denial.

"You will believe them, and I can thank God for that, for then perhapsyou will not regret me."

"He will /not/ die a second-class clerk!" said Marneffe to Hulot, ashe led his wife away, saying roughly, "Come, madame; if I am foolishto you, I do not choose to be a fool to others."

Valerie left the house, Crevel's Eden, with a last glance at theBaron, so cunning that he thought she adored him. The Justice of thePeace gave Madame Marneffe his arm to the hackney coach with aflourish of gallantry. The Baron, who was required to witness thereport, remained quite bewildered, alone with the police-officer. Whenthe Baron had signed, the officer looked at him keenly, over hisglasses.

"You are very sweet on the little lady, Monsieur le Baron?"

"To my sorrow, as you see."

"Suppose that she does not care for you?" the man went on, "that sheis deceiving you?"

"I have long known that, monsieur--here, in this very spot, MonsieurCrevel and I told each other----"

"Oh! Then you knew that you were in Monsieur le Maire's privatesnuggery?"

"Perfectly."

The constable lightly touched his hat with a respectful gesture.

"You are very much in love," said he. "I say no more. I respect aninveterate passion, as a doctor respects an inveterate complaint.--Isaw Monsieur de Nucingen, the banker, attacked in the same way--"

"He is a friend of mine," said the Baron. "Many a time have I suppedwith his handsome Esther. She was worth the two million francs shecost him."

"And more," said the officer. "That caprice of the old Baron's costfour persons their lives. Oh! such passions as these are like thecholera!"

"What had you to say to me?" asked the Baron, who took this indirectwarning very ill.

"Oh! why should I deprive you of your illusions?" replied the officer."Men rarely have any left at your age!"

"Rid me of them!" cried the Councillor.

"You will curse the physician later," replied the officer, smiling.

"I beg of you, monsieur."

"Well, then, that woman was in collusion with her husband."

"Oh!----"

"Yes, sir, and so it is in two cases out of every ten. Oh! we know itwell."

"What proof have you of such a conspiracy?"

"In the first place, the husband!" said the other, with the calmacumen of a surgeon practised in unbinding wounds. "Mean speculationis stamped in every line of that villainous face. But you, no doubt,set great store by a certain letter written by that woman with regardto the child?"

"So much so, that I always have it about me," replied Hulot, feelingin his breast-pocket for the little pocketbook which he always keptthere.

"Leave your pocketbook where it is," said the man, as crushing as athunder-clap. "Here is the letter.--I now know all I want to know.Madame Marneffe, of course, was aware of what that pocketbookcontained?"

"She alone in the world."

"So I supposed.--Now for the proof you asked for of her collusion withher husband."

"Let us hear!" said the Baron, still incredulous.

"When we came in here, Monsieur le Baron, that wretched creatureMarneffe led the way, and he took up this letter, which his wife, nodoubt, had placed on this writing-table," and he pointed to the/bonheur-du-jour/. "That evidently was the spot agreed upon by thecouple, in case she should succeed in stealing the letter while youwere asleep; for this letter, as written to you by the lady, is,combined with those you wrote to her, decisive evidence in a police-court."

He showed Hulot the note that Reine had delivered to him in hisprivate room at the office.

"It is one of the documents in the case," said the police-agent;"return it to me, monsieur."

"That is perfectly evident," said the officer. "Oh, they are not allon the streets! When a woman follows that trade in a carriage and adrawing-room, and her own house, it is not a case for francs andcentimes, Monsieur le Baron. Mademoiselle Esther, of whom you spoke,and who poisoned herself, made away with millions.--If you will takemy advice, you will get out of it, monsieur. This last little gamewill have cost you dear. That scoundrel of a husband has the law onhis side. And indeed, but for me, that little woman would have caughtyou again!"

"Thank you, monsieur," said the Baron, trying to maintain his dignity.

"Now we will lock up; the farce is played out, and you can send yourkey to Monsieur the Mayor."

Hulot went home in a state of dejection bordering on helplessness, andsunk in the gloomiest thoughts. He woke his noble and saintly wife,and poured into her heart the history of the past three years, sobbinglike a child deprived of a toy. This confession from an old man youngin feeling, this frightful and heart-rending narrative, while itfilled Adeline with pity, also gave her the greatest joy; she thankedHeaven for this last catastrophe, for in fancy she saw the husbandsettled at last in the bosom of his family.

"Lisbeth was right," said Madame Hulot gently and without any uselessrecrimination, "she told us how it would be."

"Yes. If only I had listened to her, instead of flying into a rage,that day when I wanted poor Hortense to go home rather than compromisethe reputation of that--Oh! my dear Adeline, we must save Wenceslas.He is up to his chin in that mire!"

"My poor old man, the respectable middle-classes have turned out nobetter than the actresses," said Adeline, with a smile.

The Baroness was alarmed at the change in her Hector; when she saw himso unhappy, ailing, crushed under his weight of woes, she was allheart, all pity, all love; she would have shed her blood to make Hulothappy.

"Stay with us, my dear Hector. Tell me what is it that such women doto attract you so powerfully. I too will try. Why have you not taughtme to be what you want? Am I deficient in intelligence? Men stillthink me handsome enough to court my favor."

Many a married woman, attached to her duty and to her husband, mayhere pause to ask herself why strong and affectionate men, so tender-hearted to the Madame Marneffes, do not take their wives for theobject of their fancies and passions, especially wives like theBaronne Adeline Hulot.

This is, indeed, one of the most recondite mysteries of human nature.Love, which is debauch of reason, the strong and austere joy of alofty soul, and pleasure, the vulgar counterfeit sold in the market-place, are two aspects of the same thing. The woman who can satisfyboth these devouring appetites is as rare in her sex as a greatgeneral, a great writer, a great artist, a great inventor in a nation.A man of superior intellect or an idiot--a Hulot or a Crevel--equallycrave for the ideal and for enjoyment; all alike go in search of themysterious compound, so rare that at last it is usually found to be awork in two volumes. This craving is a depraved impulse due tosociety.

Marriage, no doubt, must be accepted as a tie; it is life, with itsduties and its stern sacrifices on both parts equally. Libertines, whoseek for hidden treasure, are as guilty as other evil-doers who aremore hardly dealt with than they. These reflections are not a mereveneer of moralizing; they show the reason of many unexplainedmisfortunes. But, indeed, this drama points its own moral--or morals,for they are of many kinds.

The Baron presently went to call on the Marshal Prince de Wissembourg,whose powerful patronage was now his only chance. Having dwelt underhis protection for five-and-thirty years, he was a visitor at allhours, and would be admitted to his rooms as soon as he was up.

"Ah! How are you, my dear Hector?" said the great and worthy leader."What is the matter? You look anxious. And yet the session is ended.One more over! I speak of that now as I used to speak of a campaign.And indeed I believe the newspapers nowadays speak of the sessions asparliamentary campaigns."

"We have been in difficulties, I must confess, Marshal; but the timesare hard!" said Hulot. "It cannot be helped; the world was made so.Every phase has its own drawbacks. The worst misfortunes in the year1841 is that neither the King nor the ministers are free to act asNapoleon was."

The Marshal gave Hulot one of those eagle flashes which in its pride,clearness, and perspicacity showed that, in spite of years, that loftysoul was still upright and vigorous.

"You want me to so something for you?" said he, in a hearty tone.

"I find myself under the necessity of applying to you for thepromotion of one of my second clerks to the head of a room--as apersonal favor to myself--and his advancement to be officer of theLegion of Honor."

"What is his name?" said the Marshal, with a look like a lightningflash.

"Marneffe."

"He has a pretty wife; I saw her on the occasion of your daughter'smarriage.--If Roger--but Roger is away!--Hector, my boy, this isconcerned with your pleasures. What, you still indulge--? Well, youare a credit to the old Guard. That is what comes of having been inthe Commissariat; you have reserves!--But have nothing to do with thislittle job, my dear boy; it is too strong of the petticoat to be goodbusiness."

"No, Marshal; it is bad business, for the police courts have a fingerin it. Would you like to see me go there?"

"The devil!" said the Prince uneasily. "Go on!"

"Well, I am in the predicament of a trapped fox. You have always beenso kind to me, that you will, I am sure, condescend to help me out ofthe shameful position in which I am placed."

Hulot related his misadventures, as wittily and as lightly as hecould.

"And you, Prince, will you allow my brother to die of grief, a man youlove so well; or leave one of your staff in the War Office, aCouncillor of State, to live in disgrace. This Marneffe is a wretchedcreature; he can be shelved in two or three years."

"How you talk of two or three years, my dear fellow!" said theMarshal.

"But, Prince, the Imperial Guard is immortal."

"I am the last of the first batch of Marshals," said the Prince."Listen, Hector. You do not know the extent of my attachment to you;you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will gotogether. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want yourplace; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I havefought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant youyour two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar atyour age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit alittle too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shallnot be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will findit a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see yourdismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influentialmen, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of myarguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be fivemalcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by athread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. Therewas a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the OldGuard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake inparliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray;you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these!How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?"

He rang the bell.

"That police report must be destroyed," he added.

"Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention myanxiety on that point."

"I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, hisgroom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have thenomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that lowschemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will besharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallestfault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for thefuture. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have thenomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in theLegion of Honor.--How old are you now?"

"Within three months of seventy."

"What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deservea promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!"

Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors ofthe Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camptogether, and bound to stand together through thick and thin.

"One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed thecourtyard, "and I am done for!"

The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed amere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on hissalary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in theevent of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should bedevoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital andinterest were all cleared off.

This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, towhom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousandfrancs.

On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge,the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotionof Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes,was not commented on in any newspaper.

Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken upher abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the bannsof marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguishedold officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related thefinancial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never tomention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quitedepressed and crushed.

"Alas! he is as old as his years," she added.

So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of herambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatredgratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supremeover the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she wouldpatronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would doleout a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as"Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in frontof a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in strugglingwith poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it inthe fashionable world.

A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heightswhere she so proudly enthroned herself.

On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baronreceived a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived,handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to BaronHulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowedhimself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines ofthis letter:--

"DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September.

"If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer.

"This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God.

"Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law?

"If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!"

The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which hadchecked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's everthinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had givenwarning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out ofthe dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to asofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness ofa heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconsciousthat he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter.

Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa,like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied hehad an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror,in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw herHector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in ontiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw theletter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went throughone of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for everon the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constanttrembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave hersuch strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of thevital powers.

"Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no morethan a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come,my dear, come!"

"Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get ClaudeVignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligentfellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundredthousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded withmortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirtythousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted tomake up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up withme; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how mattersstand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take hisbroadside so as to go decently to the bottom."

"But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline."My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; youhave a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage;there must be some way out of it."

"Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find twohundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?"

"My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself indisgrace."

"There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes,Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money,he alone could--"

"Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than toleave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!"cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save youall.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurredto me?"

She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. Onrising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face,that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into asort of idiotic melancholy.

"Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herselffrom this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Getround the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Yourfamily, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor ofState, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adelinewill be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," saidshe, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me yourblessing! Say farewell."

It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raisedher and kissed her, saying:

"I do not understand."

"If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not havethe strength to carry out this last sacrifice."

"Breakfast is served," said Mariette.

Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go tobreakfast and assume a false face.

"Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness.

She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows:

"MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant,

"ADELINE HULOT."

"Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "takethis note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once tothis address and wait for an answer."

The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper tohis wife, pointing to an article, and saying:

"Is there time?"

This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which thepapers spice their political bread and butter:--

"A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self- evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830."

"I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rosefrom table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute."

"Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable tocheck her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the /Revue desBeaux Arts/.

Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by CountSteinbock, under which were the words, "The property of MadameMarneffe."

The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent andfriendliness of Claude Vignon.

"Poor child!" said the Baroness.

Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, sawthe expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose tokiss her mother, saying:

"What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretchedthan we are already?"

"My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day mypast dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased tosuffer?"

"In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly.

"Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you helpme in this! Send me Louise."

Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She lookedat herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself:

"Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?"

She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they wereas fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders,and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beautyof really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses,especially if she has lived chastely.

Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless womanis decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Ofwhat use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satinshoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying apretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or twobeyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on,indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and shortsleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine armswith clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroideredcape. Her curls, /a l'Anglaise/, struck her as too fly-away; shesubdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but,with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the goldenringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration?

As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for adeliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever,which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyeswere bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air,she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her.

Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances ofWenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utteramazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had madeherself the mistress of the bewitched artist.

"How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth.

There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on suchsubjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remainimmaculate.

"Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty."Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring anangel to perdition."